


das schiff & der kapitän

by spacehades



Category: Rammstein
Genre: (but only in chapter 2), A Potential Plane Disaster, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, German Language, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Feeling B, Mild Language, Or Romance If You Squint, Panic Attacks, Platonic Romance, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmates, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehades/pseuds/spacehades
Summary: Wohin soll denn die Reise gehen?A collection of short stories depicting a relationship between Till Lindemann and Flake Lorenz throughout the years.(The writing style gets better in chapter 2, I promise).





	1. das vertrauen

"Flake?"

  
Flake raises his head, annoyed at first for interrupting his reading session so mercilessly, but he relaxes instantly upon seeing Till and shoots him a small smile. He would have said something if it had been somebody else; Richard or Schneider, for example. But it's Till, and he's... _special_. Entitled. And it has to be something important if he actually feels the need to talk to him. Flake has never felt like a third wheel in the band - _sechs Herzen, eine Familie_ , that's what Till said, that's what they are. But well, _he_ 's just a keyboardist. A good one, to be honest, but unable to write poetry like their lead singer or steal the show in Kruspe-like manner. The only spectacular thing he does from time to time is dancing like a epileptic to "Weisses Fleisch" - and he kinda feels bad about doing stuff like this during the song about brutal rape, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it that one time, and well, the audience has loved it since then.

  
(And Till smiles, _actually smiles_ when he sees him move. He sometimes has to cover his mouth so the others wouldn't see him giggle like a little girl. Flake notices though, like he always does. And it's one of the most beautiful sights he has ever witnessed; so pure, so natural, so unlike the great Teutonic god. He loves it, he loves--).

  
He shakes the thoughts aside, adjusts his glasses and puts his book down.

  
"Ja, Till? Something's troubling you?", he asks jokingly.

  
It's only then he realises that something actually _does_ trouble his friend. He tries to deduce what it might be, acts like fucking Sherlock Holmes - the slight nervous tremble of Till's lips, the notebook he clutches in his hands (hardback, black cover, its content top secret), eyes looking everywhere but at Flake. Yeah, _something_. But what? He doesn't know yet, but he hates seeing Till like this, so vulnerable and distant. He wants him to smile instead, to see his eyes light up, like flames do when he sings on stage. They need to talk about it. Ironically, psychology isn't exactly Doktor Lorenz's thing, but he's willing to try anyway.

  
(The things we do for love--).

  
"Come on, don't be shy", Flake almost coos, and it sounds so hilarious that Till cracks up and snorts. "No, but seriously. You can tell me anything, y'know."

  
Till nods and hesitates for short while before opening his notebook. He browses it, looking for something, and when he finally finds it, he gives the notebook to Flake. The latter raises his eyebrows in surprise. Till has never shown his writings to anyone, except for the lyrics for the band, of course. It would have been similar to standing naked in front of the whole world, laying his heart bare for everyone to see. Until now, Flake could only assume how dark Till's inner self is, how strange, shocking and surreal are the things he writes about in there. And now he's holding the notebook in his hands and it feels like he's touching Till's soul.

  
_Hard, black, top secret._

  
Flake takes a deep breath and looks at the page opened by Till, only to be taken aback again. He imagined something horror-like, a nightmare induced poem written by Till during one of his sleepless nights, but in front of him are lyrics to _Bück dich_ , the ones that he knows pretty well. They are simple but scary - Till has managed to capture the dehumanisation of the sex act too perfectly.

  
But why would he make Flake read them all over again? What the fuck is he trying to do?

  
"I have an idea", his friend finally says, clearing his throat. "For the performance. But it's... Well."

  
" _Well_?", Flake repeats, his thoughts becoming a big mess. The solution is right in front of him, and he still isn't able to reach out for it. "Spit it out, big guy. It better be good though. I have a book to finish."

  
Till looks nauseous, but speaks quickly, like he has planned the whole conversation a long time ago. He doesn't even stop to take a breath, spits the words out like they are bullets targeted at his enemy.

  
"I tried to think of something better, really. But that vision got stuck in my mind and it won't let go. I pictured myself... leading you on a leash in front of the crowd. You're trying to break free, but I won't let you. You're down on your knees, and I..."

  
Till continues to describe the plan, tells details of how Flake is supposed to get sodomised in front of tens of thousands of people, how he's going to be fake penetrated by Till while he sings about brutal humiliation. Flake just stops listening to him at some point, because he can't take it. Is that what he is to Till? Just a toy to play with on stage? A _Zweibeiner_ to use whenever he pleases? The lyrics flow through his head, every word hurting more than the previous one. _Bück dich, befehl ich dir..._ , _Dein Gesicht ist mir egal..._ , _Ich bin enttäuscht..._. He shivers in disgust.

  
But then he remembers. He remembers how desperately Till tried to get him into the band. How he stole a pair of shoes from some fancy quaint shop, just because Flake has forgotten his own. How Flake would make Till Käsekuchen and Apfelstrudel, and watched him eat with pleasure as he played Strauss' _Kaiser-Walzer _on his piano. The whole grand constellation of _how_ 's and _when___ 's, and _Gott im Himmel_ , he's an awful human being. Has Till ever shown him anything but unconditional affection and trust? Since he has finally agreed to join the band, he is treated like a brother. Their relationship has been a love act all this time.

  
So if Till wants to consummate it, then so be it.

  
Till does not take his silence well.

  
"Oh, _Gott_ ", he whispers and his voice slightly breaks. He averts his gaze. " _Gott_ , Flake, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have suggested it, that's not what friends are supposed to do, that's just _wrong_..."

  
Before Flake knows, he's on his feet and faces Till proudly. He cups Till's chin in his hands, causing him to flinch, and smiles lightly at the sight. Because it's kind of funny, to see the man so strong and solid act so delicate, so fragile. But well, Till has always been an unique one. Flake knows it and accepts him the way he is. The scars, the quirks... even the weird ideas.

  
"Don't be silly, Dietrich", he murmurs. Till is so ashamed that he doesn't even reacts to his full name - and he usually feels the need to smack Flake for using it, or basically anyone else. Flake feels even worse. He needs to act quickly. "I actually find the idea quite amusing", he finally says.

  
Till blinks. Once. Twice.

  
"So... you don't hate me."

  
Flake is a lot of things, but an idiot certainly isn't one of them. He couldn't possibly hate Till Lindemann, even if he tried. Not after everything they have been through.

  
"No, you _Dummkopf_ ", he answers. "I don't. If anything, I trust you."

  
And that's not a lie. With Till, he feels safe, feels at home, no matter if they are in some run-down bar in Berlin or on tour in Austria and Switzerland. He's aware that the singer would be able to break him, to tear him in two with his bare hands, or injure his body during the whole pseudo-BDSM act. But he screws the possibility, because he believes that Till would have never intentionally hurt him. And accidents? Well, they happen, and Flake kind of signed up for this when he has agreed to become a part of Rammstein.

  
"I trust you", he repeats, seeing Till's wide opened eyes and clear disbelief. His next words are quite cheesy, but true neverthless. Besides, he's speaking to a poet, so he needs to be at least a little bit sophisticated. Or something like that. "I trust you with _my life_ , Till. You can do whatever you want to me, and I'd still do. Set me on fire, even sodomise me with a fucking dildo." There goes the poetical attitude. "I know you'd be gentle and caring, and you'd never, ever hurt me."

  
Flake begs Till mentally to say something, because the whole speech has drained him emotionally and he's about to cry and that's not cool at all. Till propably feels the same, because it takes him a while to process everything, and when he finally does, the only thing he says is:

  
"Even if I got us to jail?"

  
Flake bursts out laughing and nods. Oh, how he _loves_ his friend.

  
"Yeah, Till. _Even_ then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
>  _sechs Herzen_ \- six hearts  
>  _eine Familie_ \- a family  
>  _Zweibeiner_ \- two-legged  
>  _Käsekuchen & Apfelstrudel_ \- cheesecake & applepie  
>  _Gott im Himmel_ \- God in Heavens  
>  _Dummkopf_ \- idiot


	2. die angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason the chapter is named "angst". And it's not only that it's German for "fear"...  
> I'm sorry, Rammstein. And I'm sorry, the former members of Feeling B. (Yes, Christoph Zimmermann indeed died in a plane crash near Mexico). I hope it's not too over the top. (Btw, the Ramm plane story is true, too. So is the "Ejaculation" quote. You'll see).  
> Oh, and don't forget to check out the translation for German phases below.  
> PS - If you spot the reference to one of Sylvia Plath's poems, I'll love you forever.

Flake has never thought it would end this way.

And he should have known something was going to get fucky when Paul came into his hotel room the previous night, with a bottle of Schnapps and longing gaze that was unusual for him. He should have been alarmed when his friend started talking, his voice raw and broken, his mouth praying to whoever was listening, the whole heartbreaking lithany composed of one word - _Christoph, Christoph, Christoph_. He should have stopped Paul when he poured him the whole glass and sat on his bed, because Flake preferred to have a good night's sleep before they set off to Mexico instead of mourning their friend that had died in a plane crash. He should not have listened when the guitarist started talking about their adventures back in Feeling B days, and he should not have said anything himself. He should have just slammed the door when Schneider appeared and asked whether he could come inside. He should not have let him start another lithany - this time Aljoscha was mentioned and sheets became stained with Schnapps, sweat and tears. He should not have turned into a broken man, should not have allowed himself to mourn, not that night.

He should have been smarter, and now he's on a plane that's falling full-speed down to crash and burn, and God, they're all about to _fucking die_.

Some inner part of him blames Till for all of this. It's ridiculous, because the singer never wanted this to happen. But he kinda, well, brought this on them when they were flying above the city, admiring the view, because he turned to face Flake and said:

"Imagine how many people we would have taken down if we had fell."

Well, now he doesn't have to wonder anymore, because someone will probably count after they smash their skulls against the ground.

He can hear the pilot screaming into an earpiece, something about hitting an air pocket and shutting the whole system down. Flake doesn't know shit about planes, but he's aware that this is fatal. _Hello, Mexico_ , he thinks. _Better get ready, because soon we're going to have a very close encounter_. They made this album once, as Feeling B, whose title he finds really relevant in their current situation. _Achtung, wir kommen. Und wir kriegen euch alle_. Except they aren't really going to fight, because the battle is over.

That's it. In a couple of minutes, Rammstein is no more but a memory of those who loved them. Their friends, family members and devoted fans. And that's quite a lot, more than he imagined, propably more than they really deserve, but yeah, love is unconditional, isn't it? Some people will still hate them, though, like those crazy journalists - fuck them, fuck them very much - that have looked at the cover of _Herzeleid_ and labeled Rammstein _the poster boys for master race_ or neo Nazis, which is the stupidest bunch of bullshit Flake has ever heard. Almost equally as stupid as portraying yourself half-naked and bathed in oil, and having a huge flower photoshopped in the background. He has never really liked that photoshoot and jumped at every possible chance to express it, which, according to Paul, _broke his heart_.

God, _Herzeleid_. Those were the times. Flake may be fucking scared now and close to shitting his favourite pants, but at least he knows that they have once ruled the world. They released three amazing albums, played unforgettable gigs, drank unbelievable amounts of beer and fucked more girls than they should. Well, at least Till and Richard did. Those goddamned bastards with their sex, drugs and tanz metal. The marvellous Rammstein boys. They are - _were_ \- kings of Germany, masters of the whole universe, dancing with their people at the _Völkerball_.

And now they keep falling, and falling, and _ein Mensch brennt_ , and _die Sonne scheint_ , and _kein Vogel singt mehr_.

Flake takes a while to look at all of them for the last time. Till is sitting right next to him, so he starts with other boys, as _Herr_ Lindemann's face will be probably the last thing he sees before he dies. Would have been quite, hm, _romantic_ , if only it hadn't been so terrifying. Just like Till's lyrics. Like his mind. A beautiful, complex mind, that deserves to be loved and cared for, and Flake wishes he could stop the time and become like Atlas - hold the plane with his bare hands for the rest of his life, so that Till would live, so all of them would. As in the music video to _Ich Will_ , where he sacrificed himself for his friends without hesitation. But no sacrifice can save them now.

_Hallo? Könnt ihr uns hören? Wir sterben. Und wir verstehen es nicht._

Ollie is first. The boy that's tall like a fucking sequoia and usually stoic like a monument. But now he's crying. Nobody is able to hear it, but Flake sees the moist on his cheeks and the tremble of his lips. And he doesn't blame him, not even for a second, because all he wants to do is cry too, but he has to be strong, has to say his goodbyes. Oliver raises his head and looks at Flake, only to break down again.

Flake turns to Reesh, unable to stand the pain. The guitarist breathes heavily, but other than that, he's relatively calm. Flake wonders if he thinks of Khira Li. His precious, beautiful daughter. The loss is about to break her. And it will break Till's Nele, and Paul's Emil, and his Anna. _Anna_... Oh Gott, in this whole situation, he fucking forgot about his own child. _Flake, you stupid bastard_ , he scolds himself. You and her mother divorced and now she's going to be fatherless. Amazing. He wants to applaud himself. With a fist. Straight in the face. But well, what is he supposed to do? He can't phone her now; besides, that would have caused her even more grief. So he focuses on Richard's sad smile, and he sees forgiveness in it. Flake is not alone - both in abandoning his family and in death. That's somewhat reassuring, and so is the fact that Anna is surely going to be a better human being than him.

Paul, beautiful, sweet Paul - he knows what Flake is doing. In fact, he follows the exact same pattern. He clears his throat, gaining everyone's attention, and whispers:

"It was nice knowing you, guys."

And that's _it_. A couple of words, then he leans back against his seat and closes his eyes. Flake is almost sure he remembers their drunken conversation from last night, hence why he's so calm. Ollie bursts into tears once more. This time, everyone hears.

Funnily enough, that fucker from Pankow, Doom, he actually _laughs_. But it's a horrible sound, so desperate and painful that Flake would rather listen to Oliver sobbing for the rest of his life - and that's about two minutes at most. Then Schneider waves at Flake, like he never did the thing he just did, and buries his face in his hands. So much for the last words. He's gone nuts, and that's not how Flake wanted to remember him.

There's no time now for neither Till nor Flake to say a single word, so they just hold hands instead, and the gesture holds more meaning than thousands of words. They both know what they feel to each other and remember every moment spent together, from Feeling B days, to, well, _this_. (They were the best moments Flake could ask for). No need to waste their last seconds. 'Cause this is it. The final countdown. They've reached a fatal point and there's no turning back.

 _Vater unser im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name._ Facing death, even atheists utter their prayers.

This one is Flake's.

"I don't want to die", he suddenly chokes out, and then repeats it once more. He thought he was ready for this, but he thinks of Christoph again and fuck, was Feeling B cursed or something? Are they not allowed to be happy, and, excuse them if that's too much to ask, _alive_? They have to live, they have to get out of this. For Anna, for Nele, Emil and Khira. For their wives and lovers, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. For the whole fucking world that waits to be entertained by them for eternity. They can't just perish like this. Hearing his pleas, Till opens his eyes instantly. "I don't want to die, Till."

"None of us do", he replies, but that comes out weak. _Take your mask off, Dietrich_ , Flake wants to say, but something gets stuck in his throat and all that he's able to do is watch in silence as Till strokes his hand. Flake shivers. "But we had a good time here, Flake. I had a good time. With you..." Don't say this. _Don't, don't, don't._ But Till always knew how to use his words. "All of you. And if there's something on the other side, anything that would like to have our sorry asses there... I hope we meet again very, very soon." He looks at Flake one last time and the beauty in his eyes vanishes as he's slowly drifting away to the world of his own thoughts.

The pilot screams. Flake digs his nails deep into the seat, and continues the prayer, although he doesn't even believe in its power. _Dein Reich komme, dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel so auf Erden. Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute, und vergib uns unsere Schuld_ \-- Oh, fuck. Fuck the bread they will never eat and the Kingdom they will never see. Maybe they weren't meant to be saved in the first place. _Amen_. He shuts his eyes and expects the whole world to drop dead.

But it doesn't.

He slowly lifts his lids. They are up in the air again, safe and sound. Time seemed to stop when they were falling down, but now everything happens so quickly. Like in a fast-forwarded movie clip. Reesh cheers for the crew, obviously relieved, and even stands up to embrace Paul, who's smiling like crazy. Ollie wipes the tears away and heads for the cockpit - he's actually interested in the technical aspects of the whole incident, now that there's nothing to worry about. Schneider looks through the window and whispers something to himself, or maybe to the people below them. Flake doesn't know, and doesn't even bother to find out. He's too busy trying not to panic. The danger is over, but he still feels haunted by his reflections. His head is spinning with thoughts and images of Anna, his ex-wife, his brothers, and most importantly, Christoph. It was all about him, from the very beginning. Now that he remembers it, the plane that he was on has crashed in no other place than Mexico.

Isn't fate a fucking bitch?

Flake actually wants to vomit. He has never been fond of flying and now he's so scarred that he will propably never get on board again, even if he had to sail across the ocean. Why has he even agreed to join this goddamn band? Till didn't mention planes when he tried his best to convince him. As Flake thinks of him, the singer suddenly starts to laugh. Luckily, not like Doom a couple of minutes ago, but there's something annoying in it anyway. They're all trying to cope somehow, and he just seems to have fun. Despite his earlier confession, Flake begins to suspect that his friend might have enjoyed this flirt with death - that would be so typical for him. The keyboardist is being bitter now, and he knows it, but he's barely holding on and hates every second of his weakness. Damn, he even truly loathes himself right now, for the first time in, like, ten years.

No wonder he finally snaps.

"What's so funny?", he asks Till.

The answer comes quickly and it's so _Lindemann_.

"I just remembered something. Ejaculation!".

Under normal circumstances, Flake would propably laugh his ass off and made a witty response, but this is not normal. He doesn't feel well and has no will to pretend. Ignoring Till's look, Schneider's worried "Flake?", and Paul's raised eyebrows, he quickly excuses them and runs off to the toilet. He locks the door, slides down on the floor and lets it all out. Everything, starting from when he would be called names because of his petite, feminine looks - _Fräulein Lorenz_ \- through Christoph's and Aljoscha's passing, to their almost-death. The other boys propably think he's a fucking drama queen - and it's usually Richard who holds the title - so they won't disturb him. He doesn't even know why he's reacted like this. They've all been through the same thing and he acts like he's special.

He's _not_.

He sobs, and sobs, and sobs, for what feels like centuries. Then, he hears a knock on the door. He recognises instantly who's on the other side. A soft, muffled, kind of polite and distant noise; the knuckles obviously belong to the same man with whom he's been sharing his dressing rooms on tour for years.

_Till Lindemann, why have you come to torment me?_

"May I come in?", the voice asks.

Till sounds worried, genuinely. It's not pity or anything like that; he truly cares for Flake, and the keyboardist feels it. It's only because of this that he decides to crawl to the door and unlock it. Till comes in, slow, unsure. He looks at Flake, and he wonders what the singer sees. A goddamn mess, perhaps? Or maybe a freak with red eyes and a throat so tight that he cannot breathe? Propably a mix of the both, because indeed, Flake starts having a pretty bad case of a panic attack. _You're pretty late, Lorenz_ , he thinks. _You should have been doing this when you were about to_ actually _die_. But well, he's drained from crying and so done with himself, his lungs don't seem to work properly, he gasps for air, there's nothing he could possibly do, and oh Gott, he's _pathetic_.

_Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelp--_

"Flake!", Till almost shouts, his concern now clearly visible. He kneels in front of his friend and cups his face in his hands, causing him to stare right at the older man. "Flake, breathe."

"I can't", Flake chokes out in a shaky voice. He's anxious and embarassed. This has never happened before, but this whole day was just too much and he simply doesn't know what to do. "I'm sorry, Till, I--"

"Shh. Don't", Till cuts him short. His eyes are full of love and understanding, and Flake actually manages to calm down a little and listen to the man. He holds Flake in his arms and whispers soothing words over and over. "It's okay. It's absolutely okay to cry. It's understandable, really. Now look at me and breathe, will you? Just follow me. _Eins, zwei_..."

" _Drei, vier_...", Flake continues quietly and even cracks a small smile.

As he counts down, he focuses on the feeling of Till's raising and falling chest. _Rein, raus, rein, raus_ , and they slowly begin to breathe in unison. What was that piece of lyric that Till has once written on their studio sessions? _Ein Körper, zwei Namen, nichts kann uns trennen_. Flake thinks of that line and realises it's somehow true. Nothing, not even death, could possibly separate the two of them. They were bound to die on this plane, and yet here they are, clinging onto each other on a bathroom floor. And there's much more for them to come.

_Just follow me._

Oh, Till, I will never abandon you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Achtung, wir kommen. Und wir kriegen euch alle_ \- Beware, we're coming, and we're fighting all of you.  
>  _Völkerball_ \- The ball of people; Rammstein's live CD/DVD album too.  
>  _ein Mensch brennt, die Sonne scheint, kein Vogel singt mehr_ \- A man burns, the sun shines, the bird sings no more; taken from _Rammstein_ , obviously.  
>  _Hallo? Könnt ihr uns hören? Wir sterben. Und wir verstehen es nicht._ \- Hello? Can you hear us? We're dying. And we can't understand it. Paraphrased part of _Ich Will_.  
>  _Vater unser im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme, dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel so auf Erden. Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute, und vergib uns unsere Schuld._ \- The first verses of _The Lord's Prayer_ in German.  
>  _Fräulein Lorenz_ \- Miss Lorenz.  
>  _eins, zwei, drei, vier + rein, raus_ \- Pretty understandable, I think?  
>  _Ein Körper, zwei Namen, nichts kann uns trennen_ \- One body, two names, nothing can separate us. Taken from _Führe Mich_. Yeah, in my mind Till had written this back in 2003, don't mind me.


	3. der schutz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was working on this shit since April, holy fuck. I hope it's at least decent. A lot of things have happened to me during this "hiatus" - I turned 18, started a course to get my driving licence and met, wait for it, Flake Lorenz.  
> I will never forget this day and the photo we took together is on my wall along with an autograph to remind me how lucky I was. (You can ask me questions about it in the comments, I'll be glad to answer! <3)  
> At first, writing this chapter was somehow uncomfortable to me, as it once again hit me that I'm creating a fictional story about a REAL person. But well, I'm not offending anyone, I guess? Besides, I love Till/Flake and my readers too much to leave this fic unfinished! So, here it is...  
> By the way, the story described is, once again, totally true. Well, the guy (his name is unknown to me, but it doesn't matter) propably wasn't such a dick, but shh.

Out of all of their manager's ideas, this one is propably the worst.

" _What the fuck_ , Emu?", Till growls.

Flake stays silent, but oh, how he can relate to his friend's reaction.

Sending two men - one with social anxiety and the other, a former stutterer - off to a MTV gala isn't something that's going to end well. But there is no one else to replace them and that's a fact. Richard is currently going through a divorce and propably getting wasted somewhere in New York, Paul is there to support him and make sure he's going to deal with any unfinished business he has with Caron, Schneider has been sick for a couple of days now, and Ollie is visiting his family's mausoleum in Schwerin. And well, MTV apparently desperately needs two Rammstein members at their party, which leaves Till and Flake with no other choice than to agree.

But the singer isn't very eager to accept that.

Flake understands. Ironically, they owe a huge part of their success to Till's fear of crowds - that's the main reason they use so much pyro and special effects during their shows, which has since become sort of their trademark. It draws audience's attention to fire and smoke instead of a huge German standing awkwardly in front of the microphone. But no one is aware of Till's struggles and how hard he tries to put on a good, entertaining show and live up to people's expectations. They want to see a powerful god, an angel of fire and death, a _Übermensch_. So that's who he becomes, although he pays a price. Because it's just an act, and he pretends, keeps his true feelings hidden, afraid of being judged and misunderstood by those unprepared to see the darkness and pain inside him.

At least that's what Flake thinks. He always watches Till carefully on stage, has been doing so for years, and has noticed a thing or two. He knows his friend loves their fans, truly and dearly, but he suffers while trying to return their affection. Flake wishes he could take the pain for him. He plays the keyboard, is just an addition - an unique one, but nothing like Till. He doesn't have to worry about being constantly stared at, and he can hide behind his instrument whenever he pleases. Till is the one that is constantly in the centre of attention, when all he wants is to be alone. Flake doesn't know how he's able to stand it. He wouldn't know what to do if he was in his shoes.

So yeah, he understands it when Till eventually snaps.

"I know, Till", their manager says with a long sigh. "But I have to send someone and you two are the only option. It's just a gala, really... You've done this before."

Flake notices his friend clenching his fists and his desperate attempts to not punch something - or _someone_. Emanuel is a truly amazing guy, both as a friend and a manager. He's almost like a brother to them, and has known them for quite some time, but he will never fully grasp Till's way of thinking. To him, it's not _just a gala_. It's a Russian roulette. Either he manages to put on a mask and face the huge crowd with a smile, or he completely zones out and only speaks when necessary. Depends on a day and a whole lot of other factors. Flake has seen enough to know this.

He glances at Till again, and tries to stand closer to him, to touch him discretely in a reassuring manner, but before he has the chance to calm him down, the singer snarls at Emu:

"Fine."

He then mutters something angrily and storms out of the room in a blink of an eye, leaving his friend alone with a distressed Fialik, who sighs again and rubs his temples.

"I'm sorry", Flake says, somehow uncomfortable. He's gonna join Till in a minute. He just has to apologise, for both of them. "Of course we're gonna do this. And I'll take care of him."

Emu looks at him in a weird way.

"I know you will, Flake. You always do."

There's some unspoken meaning in his words, and Flake knows how to read between the lines. Emu thinks that the keyboardist is the one that keeps Till right and calms him down. A flame, burning down in an ocean. _Feuer und Wasser_. They were never meant to come together, but somehow, they did. That's a curse, sometimes - but mostly a blessing. For both Flake and Till.

Flake smiles and nods to Fialik slightly, before leaving the room. He knows exactly where to find Till. They've chosen a building with a balcony for their studio for a reason, and having a place to smoke and chill was one of them. This is indeed what's Till doing right now - smoking and trying to calm down. Flake slowly comes closer to him and rests his elbows on the railing. The day is cold, sun has hidden itself behind the clouds and it looks like it's about to rain soon, but neither of them really cares. Till takes a long, deep drag on his cigarette, inhaling the smoke, and sighs in a toxic satisfaction. His hands shake slightly and Flake doesn't hesitate for long before taking one of them in his own. It's pure, instinctual, out of primal love and concern. Till looks at him, surprised, but doesn't even flinch.

"Want some?", he whispers eventually, referring to the cigarette. His voice is hoarse, but still beautiful, and Flake wants him to talk. 

He shakes his head. 

"No", he says. Till shrugs and lifts up the cigarette to his lips. Hair ruffled, dark circles under his eyes, a true decadent. _He looks so nonchalant when he smokes_ , Flake notices and almost blushes at the conclusion. What a stupid thing to dwell on, especially in such a moment. "I'd rather... Hmm... Penny for your thoughts?"

They are worth so much more, but the saying was the only think he could think about. Till doesn't respond right away. He takes his time, savoring his cigarette like the lips of a lover. It's only after he finishes it that he murmurs the word which makes Flake shiver - dripping sweetness of French mixed with German's harshness and rawness, a caress to the ears - _Nîmes_. 

Flake wonders if Till thinks of the place for the exact same reasons he does. Is it for the soft intro to _Ohne dich_ filled with longing, for Till's glazed eyes - focused on Flake, and Flake only - and his raspy breath, for the warmth of his sweat-covered body as it pressed itself onto Flake's, for Till's head, rested carefully on Flake's shoulder? Or is it for the way they bodies rocked back and forth, for the unspoken connection between them, for how Till worries melted away? 

"I won't ever forget it", Till whispers. 

_Me neither_ , Flake thinks. But out loud he says: 

"Why?" 

The singer turns to face him and his stare softens. He looks vulnerable, the side of him available only to his bandmates. It's mostly Flake who sees him like this, though, despite all of them being really close to one another. Maybe it's because they're, in fact, both weak. Or maybe simulated anal sex on stage strenghtened their bond. Flake doesn't know, but whatever it is, he's glad they're so close. 

A would-be surgeon and a giant Nazi fighter. An unique pair, indeed. 

"You saved me", Till mutters, and Flake swears his heart stopped beating for a second. He would have laughed and said that that's what doctors are supposed to do, if only he hadn't been so dumbstruck. "I felt like I would pass out. It suddenly hit me that there are thousands of strangers, staring right at me." He stops to take a breath. "I... I had to cling onto something... someone that's familiar." 

_Familiar_. 

Flake tastes the word on his tongue, rolls the syllables, and something in it brings to mind the freshly baked bread from local bakeries of Pankow, the one that he buys every morning. And the beer in Prater Garten, which always tastes the same, no matter when you drink it. Yeah, Prenzlauer Berg is what's familiar to him - at least that's what he thought about in the first place. The fact that Till's one and ultimate thought in the moment of despair was Flake makes the keyboardist want to tear up. No matter what he'll do, he will never, not in a million years, deserve Till Lindemann and the love he gives him. Never. 

They keep on remembering the night - Till pointing out at the audience like he saw something and it was all planned right from the start, Flake shivering slightly at the _Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein_ line (he doesn't tell this to his friend, though), Ollie and Schneider giving them those funny looks - until the rain finally decides to pour. Flake wants to rush inside, but Till suddenly squeezes the hand that he held all this time - Flake's hand - making him stay. The singer's expression has changed, becoming the one full of determination. He runs his other hand through his now wet hair and takes a deep breath.

"I will do it", he says, ignoring Flake's attempts to try and convince him that he doesn't have to do anything against his will. "I will attend the gala. But I'd like to ask something of you first." 

"Anything", Flake replies in a heartbeat. "Anything you wish." 

Till laughs softly, but there's no happiness in his eyes, and it pains Flake to see him like this. He would have actually done anything to change that, and so he waits for his friend to express his need, wondering how he has got himself addicted to Till Lindemann so badly. 

"I just want you to know... Please, don't think that I'm some kind of a dick", Till finally says. "It's not like I hate the band or our fanbase. I don't, believe me. There simply are days when I can't stand it all, and I have to force myself to do this." 

Flake has two choices at this point - either he can get really, really emotional with Till, propably making everything worse for him in the process, or he can laugh everything off. Obviously, he chooses the latter, simply because that is what will make Till feel better about himself. Flake knows the singer doesn't like being pitied and he has already done it more than enough - not on purpose, though, and out of care, but still. 

"But you are a dick, Till", he says with a smirk, earning himself a look of disbelief and confusion. _Gott_ , does Till really think so low of both himself and Flake that he could assume the keyboardist would insult him like this non-jokingly? "A huge German dick." 

Till understands and joins the game. 

"How would you know, Lorenz?" 

"We've all seen your dick back in a day, _Lindemann_ ", Flake shoots back. Talking about dicks while soaking wet is something that he could do only with Till. Well, maybe with Paul and Schneider, too. Good old Feeling B days. Richard would propably run inside, afraid rain would ruin his perfect hair, and Ollie isn't really that fond of dicks as far as Flake knows. Not that he himself is, it's just... _Oh, fuck, nevermind,_ he thinks. "And it was big." 

Till truly laughs - _finally_ \- in this deep laugh of his, and leans to ruffle Flake's hair in an affectionate way. Flake hisses, but lets him, just this once. 

Till is definitely worth making exceptions for. 

"We should go inside", the keyboardist says, tasting the rain in his mouth. His friend's presence is obviously a delight, but he's starting to feel really cold and the vision of being at the party is frightening enough without the possibility of sickness. All he needs right now is a cup of hot tea, a blanket and something good to read. Or someone special to snuggle with. "Unless that's your plan. Catching a cold to fuck with Emu and avoid the gala. Am I right?" 

Till rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah. You totally got me, _Doktor_ ", he murmurs. And, after a while, adds a quiet, "You got me good." 

Flake pretends he didn't hear that. 

 

***

 

The day of the MTV party comes quickly, and their highly anticipated arrival is met with a huge applause. Despite his negative mindset, Flake feels really honoured to be greeted like that by the foreign audience. They've never dared to even dream about such a thing, having created Rammstein as a German based band - something more than Feeling B and less than Scorpions. And yet they have managed to conquer the whole world. He's propably never going to get used to that and feels overwhelmed by the fame more often than proud of it. 

Not that he wants to complain, of course. 

Till also appears to be quite satisfied. He looks way more relaxed than when he was faced with his task, and shoots smiles here and there. Flake thinks it's because of the fact that the cameras aren't focused solely on him but on other guests too, but then the singer whispers _I'm glad it's you who's here with me_ when they're done with all the small talk, and now Flake's not so sure anymore. 

Anyway, all in all, he has no reason to complain about anything, until, like, two hours into the event, when they're outside the building to smoke and are confronted with the biggest fucking douchebag they have ever seen. 

They don't even know who he is, but Flake hears someone in the crowd claiming he's the guy from "Star Search" - whatever that is. He's acting like he is Leonardo DiCaprio though, surrounded by several professional bodyguards and pushing around other artists like they were nothing to him. One woman even trips and almost falls on the ground. Normally Flake would laugh, but this is so surreal. They aren't in a comedy movie - this is real. And this guy behaves totally brazenly. 

" _Was zur Hölle_?", Till says and frowns upon seeing the man. This surely has to be something unthinkable for him, considering his shy nature and basically everything they've talked about with Flake before the gala. "I've never seen such a bastard in my life!" 

Flake agrees and is about to reply, but then he realizes that he's not the only one who has heard that. The guy turns in their direction and well, he is pissed off, to put it lightly. With the help of his mates, he quickly makes his way to Till and Flake. The keyboardist feels the sudden urge to sprint the hell out of here, but he stays. It's an official gala after all, he thinks, he won't do any shit to neither of us. Besides, Till is with him and that's a huge warranty of safety. 

"Well, well", the man says, having finally reached Till. "Aren't you quite disrespectful, _Lindefann_?" 

Till snorts. The fucker is already making him mad, more and more by every second and Flake feels it, too. He just hopes it's not going to result in a physical fight, or else they're going to kill each other. 

Or... those bodyguards will kill Till. The singer is a strong man, but not a professional, and they outnumber him on top of that. And Emu would basically flip if something like that occured. The fight, not the killing, of course. The last thing they need is a scandal, especially when the "Mutter" drama is still fresh in both fans and their own memory. 

"It's Lindemann, Mr. Whoever-You-Are", Till shoots back. "And I'm not the one who's disrespectful. You're acting like a total bitch! Who even invited you here?" 

The guy curls his fists into balls and takes one last step towards Till, shortening the distance between them to mere milimeters. Flake has a really, really bad feeling about this, like a freakin' Han Solo. He knows how such situations usually end up in broken noses, bloody knuckles and a lot of bandages. And it only takes a single punch for hell to break loose. 

"Take it back, you German sissy", the male primadonna barks. "Or else..." 

Till pouts his lips provocatively and laughs like a maniac. _At least he forgot about his own insecurities for a while_ , Flake notices. Well, they are strong, but his anger... It will never die. Seems like picking up fights is his destiny. Maybe he just likes being punched in the face. That is some sort of a coping mechanism, propably. Or a relict of old times, when he was a rebellious teenager messing with everyone willing to. Anyway - he's on a roll.

"Oh, do it. Come on, I know you want to", he pleads. Flake suddenly gets scared. And he's not sure whether it's for Till or _of him_. "Beat me bloody, superstar. Right here." 

The man mocks a bow and says: 

"As you wish." 

And Flake realises what he is going to do the exact second he does it. 

The guy's balled fist quickly lands on Till's face, causing the singer to take a step back. Flake gasps, seeing a red mark already forming itself on his friend's cheek. The blow was pretty impressive and the keyboardist feels like he needs to run to Till and protect him with his whole being, like he wasn't the band's weakest link. Before he can react, though, Till lets out a sound similar to a lion's roar and heads for his revenge. He smacks his opponent with an unbelievable force, and the guy nearly loses his balance. 

"Are you done now?", Till asks. "Have you learned your--" 

The German is cut short by the man laughing. Not even bothering with answering the questions, he makes a couple of quick gestures, to which his bodyguards react by grabbing Till's arms and holding him down. The singer fidgets and tries to break free, punches the air and kicks one of the guys' legs. The bodyguard moans, but responds with a powerful punch to Till's stomach. It propably lands right on his scar, because he winces and a painful cry escapes his lips. Someone screams at the sight, and Flake is not sure if it's him or someone in this small crowd. He wants to get the officials, to call the cops, hell - even to get Emu to come and rescue them. Their manager used to be a bodyguard himself, and they have been awfully stupid for getting rid of that position. Till won't be able to handle what they are doing to him - being restrained and hit in the weakest spots possible. He lacks both strength and skills, and with every second his physical state gets worse, to the point where Flake is actually afraid to leave him, even if it meant getting help. 

There's only one thing left for him to do in this situation - and it basically equals suicide, but he's willing to try anyway. 

"Hey!", he shouts, getting everyone's attention. "Leave him alone!" 

The celebrity wanna-be snorts and meets Flake's gaze. He eyes the keyboardist, up and down, only to smile again, his expression full of contempt. Flake knows that look, understands its meaning. _Who are you to tell me what I should and what I shouldn't do?_ , it says. _You're no knight in a shining armour._

Maybe he isn't. Maybe he's more of a damsel in distress. But sometimes knights get in trouble, too. And damsels can bare their teeth as well. 

"I mean what I said. Leave him alone", Flake repeats. Till looks at him and slowly shakes his head, pleading his friend silently to stop whatever he's planning on doing, but there's no way Flake could chicken out now. If that's how he pays Till back for everything he's done, if that's how he proves himself worthy of his love... then to hell with everything else. "You can hit me instead, I don't care. Just let him be." 

"How sweet of you", the guy says, rolling his eyes. "Do you two get off on pain, or what? 'Cause I've seen you on TV, you know. Bending over and stuff." 

Till manages to whisper _Shut the fuck up_ through gritted teeth - which causes him to be gripped tighter - but Flake doesn't even flinch. He has heard enough of these remarks in the States to learn how to ignore them. Instead, he takes all of the courage he has left and commands in a raised and suprisingly strong voice:

"Leave. Now. Or else I'm going to scream for security really, really loud. They will certainly hear me and they will see what you and your friends have done. And then the press will find out and they will write about it. You know that a mere mention of an incident like that could ruin your career. Am I right?" 

Much to Flake's surprise, the man actually looks horrified. His hands start to shake slightly and his eyes wander from Till to Flake, like he wasn't sure what to do about the whole situation. Flake can almost see the way his mind works. The guy really wants to punch him, but he, indeed, is aware of the fact that if he does, Rammstein's management won't leave it alone. They're going to sue him and they're going to win. 

And the public forgives but never forgets. 

"Yeah... You are", he says with a sigh. "If I leave now, there won't be any charges, will there?"  


Flake rolls his eyes. _How pathetic_ , he thinks.

"I give you five seconds. One... two..."

The bodyguards release Till immediately and Flake once again feels the need to laugh, but manages to calm himself down. He's playing the bad cop, after all. 

All members of the unwanted company quickly excuse themselves, along with those silently watching the whole incident, leaving two Germans alone again. _Was it really that easy?_ , Flake thinks. _Or am I so convincing?_ The feeling of being in charge is something new to him and he can't decide whether it feels good or not. He does not dwell long on this, though, his attention now focused on Till, who stares at him, his gaze arcane. Flake can only guess he feels relieved, but also humiliated - and it's understandable, after being overpowered in front of others and totally deprived of control. And maybe, _maybe_ he's a little proud of Flake, too, because he whispers:

"You... _you_...".

His voice dies at the end of the sentence.

If Flake had listened to his heart, he would have wrapped Till in his arms and let his heartbeat complete the puzzle. But he tries to think logically and remembers the unwritten rule - no pity. So with a _yeah, I'm amazing, I know_ on his lips he leads Till to the bathroom, unnoticed, where he gently wipes the blood off his friend's face. 

And while doing so, he thinks to himself that power is nice, but when it comes to protecting someone, love is a much stronger weapon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> * _Übermensch_ \- a concept in the philosophy of Nietzsche, literally "an overman"  
>  * _Feuer und Wasser_ \- fire and water, two opposite elements (also, a Rammstein song, obviously)  
>  * _Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein_ \- I cannot exist without you (and they really cuddled to that, oh God)  
>  * _Was zur Hölle?_ \- what the hell?


End file.
